Theoretically.
Katherine was good at managing Granddad but she wasn’t infallible. And he was unpredictable. But Sprite was saddled and so was Jigsaw, so I was committed to see this through.
With a deep breath, I returned to the arena. Private lessons were typically two hours, but this was going to be ninety minutes, max.
Gemma didn’t hear me as I walked up. Sprite’s hooves thudded in the soft dirt as Gemma led her in a circle, the noise drowning out the sound of my own footsteps.
“Okay, Sprite,” Gemma said. “Help me out today. Don’t make me look like a total fool in front of him. Please.”
I froze. The way she’d pleaded with the animal, the vulnerability in her voice . . . fuck. She did a hell of a job making sure to keep her confidence in place, but to hear her beg a horse. Maybe it wasn’t as steely as she pretended.
And maybe I was being a dickhead, punishing her for a decade-old mistake.
Jigsaw, the bastard, chose that moment to snort and caught Gemma’s attention. When she spotted me listening in, the gentle expression she’d had with Sprite hardened.
“That’s good enough.” I closed the gap and tightened Sprite’s cinch. Then I jerked my chin for Gemma to follow me to the horse’s left side where I held the stirrup for her. “Foot in. Hand on the horn. Then up you go.”
With one graceful swing, she was in the saddle. A small smile toyed on her pink lips.
I adjusted her stirrups, then handed her the reins. “Wait here.”
Jigsaw jittered as I approached, the excitement radiating off his large body. “It’s not that kind of trip today.”
He nudged me in the shoulder with his nose, leaving a snot mark. “Thanks.”
After a couple of walking laps, I cinched him up, pulled on his bridle and climbed on. I clicked my tongue and led the way out of the arena, heading toward the two-lane road that created a large loop in one of the pastures.
Sprite had been trained well. She followed behind Jigsaw without Gemma having to do a thing but stay seated.
I looked over my shoulder occasionally to check that Gemma was sitting correctly and wasn’t choking up on the reins. Every time, I expected to make a correction but she looked good there. Natural.
“Come on up here.” I pointed to the other lane. Having her behind me wasn’t going to teach her anything about leading a horse if she was only following.
She nodded, her eyes fixed on Sprite’s white mane, then gave a gentle nudge with her heels and steered to the right. When we were walking side by side, she glanced over.
Normally, this would be the time in a lesson when I’d shower a student with praise. Good job, you steered the horse three feet to the right. I’d prattle on about horses and gauge the student’s comfort. I’d talk about the ranch and answer questions, making small talk and ensuring the student had a nice time.
Except this was Gemma. My normal approach had flown out the window when I’d snapped at her in the stables. And as much as I’d like a quiet, no-conversation ride, it actually made the tension worse.
“So you drove here?” I asked at the same time she said, “Katherine said you built a house.”
“Uh . . . yeah,” I answered. “A few years ago.”
“I bet it’s nice to have your own space. And yes, I drove here.”
“Nice car.”
“It’s not mine. Do you remember Londyn?”
I nodded, recalling the blonde who’d arrived with Gemma and Kat. She’d left not long after the first snowstorm. “The other friend.”
“The Cadillac is hers. When we lived in the junkyard, it was her home, for lack of a better term. A while ago, she had it hauled from California to Boston and completely restored.”
“How’d you end up with it?” Maybe she’d bought it with some of her millions.
“Londyn was driving it back to California a little over a year ago. She got a flat tire and ended up stuck in West Virginia. The mechanic who rescued her is now her husband. After I sold the company, I went to visit, and she got this crazy idea for me to take the car to California in her place.”
Like I’d suspected, this was only just a temporary stop. “Why California?”
“To find an old friend from the junkyard. It was their car, Londyn and Karson’s. She wants him to have it.”
“That’s quite the gift.” Restoring a junkyard car would not have been cheap. “But if she’s got money to burn.”
“Londyn saved for a long time to restore that car,” Gemma fired back. “It was important to her and she worked hard for it.”
I shrugged. I didn’t care. This was just conversation and a way to pass the time. I wasn’t all that interested in Gemma’s life story and how she’d come here. I was interested in when she’d be leaving.
“Why are you in Montana if you’re headed to California?”
“For Katherine.” She glared. “I wanted to see her and to apologize.”
“You two looked fairly chummy last night, drinking all the expensive wine.”
“Is that what this is about? The profit margin? I’ll pay for the wine, okay?”
Of course, she would. She was loaded. “We don’t need your money.”
“God, you’re something else. First, I need to pay my way. Then, you’re too good for my money. You haven’t changed at all, have you? In eleven years, you still only know how to send one type of message: mixed.”
“Mixed? I think my intentions the last time you were here were pretty fucking clear.”
I’d wanted her. I’d told her I’d wanted her. Lying in my arms, I’d told her I’d thought we had something real.
And she’d left anyway.
“I didn’t . . .” She blew out a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
It was too late for an apology. I didn’t trust her, not after she’d snuck out of my bed and disappeared without so much as a word. All because she’d wanted to strike it rich.
“Keep up,” I barked, pulling down the brim of my hat a fraction of an inch. Then I urged Jigsaw faster.
Today wasn’t Gemma’s first time on a horse. She didn’t need to be coddled. She was doing just fine walking, so we’d trot for a bit and put an end to this conversation.
The asshole who’d been pissed at her for eleven years wanted her to falter. To get scared and beg to slow down. To dent her confidence as way of punishment.
But I wasn’t a complete asshole and when she stayed right by my side, actually seeming to enjoy the faster clip, another surge of pride swelled.
Gemma wasn’t scared of anything, least of all me or a gentle horse.
She relaxed into the saddle, finding her rhythm with Sprite’s, and by the time we made it through the loop and back to the stables, Gemma looked damn good on that horse.
Too good.
Her hair swung as she rode. Her thighs flexed and her breasts bounced. There was a peach flush to her cheeks and an added sparkle in her eyes. She looked beautiful. Satisfied.
Hell. What if she’d actually enjoyed herself and wanted to do this every day? I was on the lesson schedule all week.
The cool edge to the fall weather had been burned off by the bright morning sun, and the horses were panting by the time we walked them into the arena. I hopped off Jigsaw first, then took Sprite’s reins from Gemma to hold them while she dismounted.